


Three Weddings and A Much-Exaggerated Funeral

by hobbitgirl05



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, bagginshield, fem!Biblo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:04:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitgirl05/pseuds/hobbitgirl05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is long suspected dead, a casualty of war and victim of the curse of Durin's line.  When news comes to Erebor from the Shire, though, hopes begin to rise amongst the entire company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams and songs

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first work from The Hobbit, and I really hope you enjoy it!

_Thorin paused, slowly turning back to Bilbo. She raised her hands and took a step towards the King Under the Mountain, wordlessly begging him to understand. “Thorin…” she began, before she was interrupted by the sharp sound of a sword being unsheathed. With a hoarse cry, he had her pinned against the side of the mountain, Orcist at her throat._

_“Tell me,” he growled. “Tell me these are lies.”_  
 _Bilbo gasped, struggling to get an answer out. “Please,” she choked out. “Just let me…”_  
 _But the great king wouldn’t let the hobbit continue. With his hand at her throat, he lowered the Goblin Cleaver, and with it, thrust it into her soft belly. She looked down, a cry of pain on her lips. She looked back up at him, tears forming in her eyes. He looked down at his handiwork, and as he saw the darkening stain, he dropped his sword. The madness in his eyes, his thoughts, was gone. He felt as if there was a sword in his own stomach. He wished there was, anything but this. By his own hand. Bilbo had slid down the wall, holding the sword in place._

_“Oh Aule, what have I… Bilbo, I…” he dropped down to her level, hands cupping her face. He didn’t deserve to touch her, not after what he had just done, over that thrice damned rock, but he was ultimately a selfish dwarf. He desperately tried to wipe her cheeks clean, until a cough of red came from Bilbo, splashing across his shirt._

_Her cries of pain quieted. She met his eyes, starting to laugh madly._

_“Oh, yes. The great Thror, come again! The true king under the mountain!” She laughed, mockingly. “Bow down, bow down, for the mad king!” She pushed him back, sending him off balance. He looked down at the hand that had come down to catch his fall. His fingers, once so familiar, were gone, replaced by wizened and old imposters. On one of his fingers, he noticed his grandfather’s ring, the sign of Durin set in mithril._  
 _Against his will, those hands came up around Bilbo’s still laughing, dying form. They reached to her dear throat, and began to squeeze, her laughs turning to bloody coughs. His thumbs started to press into the center of the hobbit’s throat, harder, and harder, until-_

 

Thorin woke, crying out. He reached for the spot besides him, searching for the one person who most belonged there, but never would be again. His left hand grabbed at the furs surrounding him, remembering, despite his best efforts, despite him telling himself to just go back to bed and be dead to his guilt for a few more hours. He remembered the smell of her hair, the curve of her soft body against his stone one, remembered the feel of her small throat in his hand…  
He slowly forced himself to release his bedding, and stood up out of bed. He walked over to the dresser, and pulled out one od the drawers. He reached towards the back, lifting robes and shirts out of the way until he found what he was looking for.

A little red coat, torn and threadbare, missing its little brass buttons in their entirety. It was a strange material to the dwarves, but he had seen plenty of others wear it in her homeland. He brought the coat up to his nose, inhaling the smell of sunshine, the smell of growing things, and the soap that she had spent far too much on in Lake Town. All these smells, so different from the smells of the Kingdom under the Mountain.

Reluctantly, he placed the jacket back in its resting spot. He walked over to the mantle, ignoring his bed. Lighting his pipe, he stared into the embers left in the fireplace, and began to sing, telling the tale of a love long gone, and the man who was left to live on for his own punishment.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bilbo Baggins!" Came a shriek from down the hill. 

The aforementioned (shrieked) hobbit's eyes sprung open, before quickly grabbing a pillow to cover her eyes from the  mid-morning light streaming in from her window.

"Bother that Lobelia," Bilbo growled into her pillow.  Throwing her quilt from her, she reached for her robe, knowing the impropriety of her dress at that time of morning would bother her cousin-to-be.  As she was tying a knot around her, there came a pounding at her round, yellow door. 

"Bilbo!" Came the shriek again.  "Bilbo!"

She waited patiently at her door until the pounding had ceased, and she could only tell the banshee outside her doorstep was still there due to the increasingly loud whistle-like huffing noises the younger hobbit's nose was making (not unlike the sound her kettle made at breakfast, elevensies, tea(s), and before bed).  When it sounded like she might boil over again and return to her screaming, Bilbo flung the door open cheerfully.

"Lobelia!" she said, ushering her inside.  "My dear, you mustn't be afraid to knock a bit louder, I could hardly hear you!  After that last _battle,_ you know, the one from a few years back, I'm afraid I've gone rather deaf in this ear."  She gestured to her right ear.  It wasn't a lie, she had lost a bit of hearing after being struck in the head by a rock on the battlefield, but she only mentioned it because she knew how much the very idea of a relative being improper (even only a relative by marriage) annoyed the Bracegirdles. 

Lobelia opened her mouth to snap a reply, her face going red, before Bilbo thrust an old, not at all presentable to guests and therefore perfect for this situation, into her hands.  "Have a cup of tea."  She turned to set her kettle on.

"Don't you play coy with me, Bilbo." She seethed.  "You know perfectly well that you haven't yet RSVP'd to your cousin and I's wedding next month.

Looking at her calendar, Bilbo acted shocked.  "Dear me, is it truly coming up so soon?"  She ran her finger along the dates before stopping at a few days prior.  "No, no, I'm quite sure this was the day.  'Sent back invitation to L.'"  She turned back to her kettle, pouring herself a cuppa, and filling Lobelia's mug. 

"I'm sure I have no idea how it could have gotten lost _again_ , really, we must speak to Rosco.  This is, what, the third invitation lost through the post?"  She sat down in her own armchair, smiling to herself from behind a sip of tea.

The letter in question had in fact gone missing yesterday morning, if one considered 'gone missing' as 'used as kindling for breakfast's fire'.

The future Mrs. Baggins sat fuming, her tea untouched.  "The fourth.  Really, Bilbo, you haven't been the same since your little... _holiday_.  You haven't even offered me a thing to eat, and it's just hit elevensies!  What would your poor father think of these manners?"

"Ah, yes!  Please forgive me, I don't know where my mind could be this morning, I do believe I have some lemon cake, fresh baked, around here..."  Bilbo stood up, going to her table, and delicately placed a slice of lemon cake she had made more than a week ago.  It was just reaching the perfect stage of staleness where no one would blame her for being rude, but would hopefully be unpleasant enough to ward off any other unexpected visits from distant relations.  She tried to keep a few slices of such things around, hobbits she hardly knew always seemed to pop up, snooping around for a few of 'mad Baggins'' treasure.

She pushed the 'treat' into Lobelia's hands, grabbing her own poppy seed cake, which she actually _had_ just made.  "I do apologize, for the invitation, the first one was sent in November, wasn't it?"

"September" came the muffled reply.  Lobelia was fighting her own battle against the stale cake, struggling to get a bite that couldn't be pleasant down. 

Bilbo paused, frowning as she bit into her own cake.  She actually hadn't received one before November...had she?  She was quite sure the first had been four months back.

"At any rate, I decided to take the liberty to hand deliver this one to you."  Lobelia handed Bilbo a thick envelope, written in a horrible mauve colored ink.  Bilbo gave a discreet sniff.  Lobelia had even, apparently, sprayed the invitation with her perfume she had had delivered from Bree that she insisted smelled lovely, but to most others smelled rather like turned turnips.

 

_To: Dear Guest_

_You are cordially invited to the marriage of_

_L. Bracegirdle and B. Baggins on April the 6th, 2895_

 

She grimaced, wondering how her cousin Bingo could marry such a hobbit.

Bilbo sighed, trapped between Lobelia's stubbornness and her father's teachings of polite manners in the worst of company.  Even after the adventure she had gone on, and the Took side of her heritage raising its head, she was still A Baggins.  She slid the envelope open, and reached for a quill.  Quite reluctantly, she checked the box 'will be attending', ignoring the additional 'with a plus one' box underneath.

Lobelia grabbed the card back with what could only be described as a smirk.

"And with that, I really must excuse myself.  I have a great many of errands to do, and the day awaits."  She near pushed her 'guest' out of her chair and to the door.

"I really look...forward to your presence, of course.   If you are wondering about a gift, I know your cousin has always admired that west farthing silverware of yours..."  Lobelia hinted, lying through her teeth.  Everyone on this side of the Brandywine knew that Lobelia had an eye (and quick fingers) for the Baggins' silverware.

"Quite right," Bilbo said firmly.  "I will have to keep that in mind.  Have a pleasant day, Lobelia."

She slammed the door firmly behind her, sighing.  This day had had such promise.  And now she had April to look forward to.  She really did hate weddings.  They reminded her of _him,_ and she hated thinking of him.

 

_Back in September_

 

"Rosco, old fellow!" Came a booming voice, nearly causing the old hobbit to jump out of his  hairy feet.  He turned up, looking as an old man in a blue hat looked down on him. 

"Do let me take that for you, that hill is quite steep, and I was on my way to visit Ms. Baggins anyways."  Before Rosco could even open his mouth to argue, not that he would of course, arguing with a wizard topped his list of 'unpleasant things', Gandalf had grasped the stack of letters from his hand.  On the top was an invitation written in mauve. 

If Rosco's eyes had been a bit better, he would have seen the wizard slip said invitation in his sleeve before knocking at Bag End, and handing the rest of the letters to Ms. Bilbo.  And none of the hobbits in Hobbiton could possibly know that Gandalf was on his way to the Kingdom Under the Mountain, with that very invitation still in his possession. 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_December, 2894_

Bofur sat whittling a whistle in the shape of a bird. He whittled quite a lot, most days, things he thought his brother’s children would like, or perhaps the dwarrowdam he had seen quite a lot of down in Dale would appreciate it. He supposed it was healthy, moving on after all this time. For a long time, the only one he had eyes for their little burglar. Even after she had made her choice, he couldn’t help but moon over her just a bit.

He paused, the small toy drooping down into his lap. He could have sworn he had heard a knock, but it was late, wasn’t it? He had been down in the mines so long, day and night had begun to blur, but he had been back long enough to get the basic bits of time down; early, not so early, lunchtime, dinnertime, late, and _very_ late, or very _early_ , depending on how one looked at it.

But dinnertime had been ages ago. He remembered, because he and his brother’s daughter had spent the meal sneaking the horrible green things Bombur had tried to sneak in underneath the chips they had had.

Setting the bird down, he slowly made his way to the door. Opening it, he peered into the corridor. The torched had been dimmed, and he could see no light coming from under his neighbors’ doors. As he began to close his door again, certain he had been hearing things, maybe a ghost of his past, he saw a thick, brown envelope caught on the corner of his door. He bent down, curious. He had no family outside of his brother and cousin, no one to send or receive a letter from who didn’t simply live in the mountain. Unless, perhaps, a note from Dwia down in Dale? Eagerly he reached down to tear open what he was sure would be a love note-

And instead froze. There, written in purple, was a name he was positive he would not see ever again.

_To: Dear Guest_

_You are cordially invited to the marriage of_

_L. Bracegirdle and B. Baggins on April the 6th, 2895_

 

Bofur felt his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach. B. Baggins. Could it truly be that the lass had survived? His heart flew straight up past its previous position. Bilbo was alive! “Ha, ha! That’s my girl!” There had never been a body, but nor did they ever hear word from her. They had all mourned (except perhaps one, he thought, still with more than a hint of bitterness), some more openly than others, Ori had been inconsolable for weeks, even Dwalin had been caught more than once with a hitch in his voice when they talked of her (always in hushed tones, far from their king’s ears).

But was it some sort of joke? His elation dropped faster than a mine shaft elevator with a broken rope. Surely Bilbo wouldn’t send an invitation to her _wedding_ of all things, to tell the company she lived? No matter how queer her sense of humor had been to the dwarves, this was just cruel. Not their burglar, she was incapable of this sort of thoughtlessness.

But the proof was in the pudding. She may not have sent it, or maybe she did, but the important thing was that she was alive. Not invisible, lying out in the remains of the battlefield, forever, never to be at rest, in this world or the next, like his nightmares had whispered to him.

“Bifur!” He shouted, then clamped a hand over his own mouth. This couldn’t get out. Not yet, not until more was uncovered. “Bifur!” He whispered loudly. He ran down the hall, knocking in a series of rapid, short taps. Hearing his cousin getting up, he turned to face his brother’s home a few doors down. “Bombur!” He regretted waking up his brother’s young ones, but this was possibly the most important news they had received in nearly five years.

* * *

 

Bofur waited impatiently as Bombur finished reading the invitation, the brothers back in Bofur’s room while Bifur was already packing in his, grunting happily in Khuzdul. He might be fast when either dinner or his life (in that order) were in danger, but he took his time in nearly all other aspects of his life. His wife must be one happy dwarrowdam.

“Well?” He asked when Bombur flipped the card over, checking the backside.

“Well, it certainly seems that there is, indeed, a certain ‘B’ Baggins who is to be wed.” Replied his brother.

“And? What are we waiting for, let’s go.” Bofur said, nearly whining like a child. “We can get the ponies from Dale. If we hurry, we can get there before April, before she marries this…‘L’ fellow.”

“What makes you think she wants us there, brother?” Bombur asked, infuriatingly calm. “There may be a reason she hasn’t contacted us in five years.”

“That's a very good point, we can ask here that when we get there.” Answered Bofur, busy packing his flute into his pack.

“Bofur.” Bombur placed a large hand on the older dwarf’s shoulder. “Perhaps she hasn’t told us she’s alive because she doesn’t want us to know.”

“And why would she want to do a stupid thing like that?” He snapped.

“Perhaps…” Bombur gulped, voice breaking slightly, betraying his calm demeanor. “Perhaps she hasn’t forgiven us.”

Bofur halted at that.  “That’s ridiculous. It wasn’t us who…We never…” He struggled to get the words out, realizing as he said them, that none of them felt quite honest. “It was him that did it.” He said, finally.

“We weren’t much better. Kili was the only one who showed the slightest bit of backbone to Thorin. But we were just as angry with her.” He shook his head sadly, beard swaying with the motion. “I reckon she _wanted_ to be rid of us.”

Bofur paused in his packing, staring at nothing. He was right. He could curse the bastard, their king, it truly came back to the entire company. None of them saw past the gold, the dratted treasure, and especially that thrice damned rock, to see reason. She had every reason to curse their names and spit on their memories (not that she would of course, Bilbo had never been so crude).

“But she sent this, Bombur. It…It can’t have been an accident, us getting this card.” Bofur was pleading, with himself or Bombur, he didn’t know. “We hafta see for ourselves.”

Bombur sighed. “I am with you, brother. As always.” He walked towards the door, then paused, turning back. “We’ll have to tell the rest of them, you know.”

Bofur gave a low chuckle with no mirth in it. “We’ll tell some of them, at least.”

“He will find out.”

“Not from us, he won’t. He doesn’t need to be anywhere near her again.”


	4. Meetings and decisions

A sharp whistle pierced the library’s silence. “Ori!”

The librarian started, dropping the books he had been shelving. “Shhh!” He whispered, a finger pressed against his lips fiercely. “This is a library, not a coal mine!” He picked up the books that had fallen in a haphazard pile, wincing as he carefully unfolded some of the creased pages. There was a moment of silence, and then several books from a nearby shelf flew out of place.

“Ori!” Bofur whispered, sticking his head through the now-vacated bit of shelving, his hat knocking a few more books off the shelf.

“Bofur!” The normally mild mannered dwarf grabbed the other’s head, shoving it back through the shelves, then walked around to talk face to face. “You had better have a good reason for destroying my library.” Bofur grinned. “The best.”

* * *

 

 

“Bahih gugûn Armukhakkar!” Shouted Bifur, looking around desperately to once again make sure they were alone.

“What’s that lad? Speak up!” Shouted Óin in return, holding up his ear trumpet. “Blasted thing doesn’t work nearly as well after Gloin’s boy stuffed that chicken in last month!”

“Melekinh!” Dayum! Nalim ‘Bag End’!” Both dwarves had sent themselves in such states, shouting back and forth, that neither noticed another dwarf approaching.

“Here now!” Came a slightly uppity voice. The two turned to face the oldest of the Brothers Ri. “There’s no need for all this shouting, we can hear you all the way down in the tea- what’s this about the hobbit?”

* * *

 

_Later that evening_

Eight of their members huddled around Bombur’s table, doors locked and lights low. The children had been put to bed while the dam of the house sat, presumably knitting, while in reality watching the front door quite unwanted visitors.

“We can’t tell Balin or his brother.” Argued Bofur. “No one can doubt anyone dwarf in this room of being anything but stupidly loyal to our king, but they’re on a whole different level. They’ll tell him, and he’ll either try to put an end to it, or go down there himself and put an end to whatever poor soul dared try to marry Bilbo.”

“But isn’t that what we’re trying to do?” Ori asked.  

“Not at all. We’re just paying our respects to our dear friend, and making sure this ‘L.’ fellow is worthy of her. Not that he likely will be, what sort of ridiculous name is Bracegirdle? Sounds more like something you’d wear.” Glóin replied. “And if he’s not, then we’ll put an end to hi- It. The wedding.”

“So we ruin her life again, is that is?” Nori said sarcastically. “She doesn’t want us there, can’t we leave the poor girl alone?” 

“She invited us.” Dori pointed to the letter. “We should bring her a nice gift, perhaps some of the tea leaves I just bought, all the way from Rohan.”

“And her share of the treasure!” Ori added. “She didn’t get any of what was due her.”

“That’s the odd bit, though, isn’t it? Why did she invite us? After five years, she lets us know she’s alive by way of a marriage announcement?”

“We won’t know until we ask her, will we lads?  We need to leave now." Bofur said. "The question is, ‘Do we tell the others before we go?’”

“I don’t feel right about not telling the princes.” Glóin said, banging a fist down. “Nor Dwalin and Balin. They were members of the company, same as any of us.”

“They’ll tell Thorin, though. Kíli, maybe, we can trust, but he’ll tell Fíli, and we can’t risk him talking to Thorin.” Bofur said, standing up.

Glóin stood up to meet his gaze. “Maybe he deserves to be told! She was his, after all, and he was her’s. He has more right than any of us here to know she’s alive, let alone someone else’s intended!”

“More right? He nearly through her from that wall! Over a rock! After everything she had done for us! For him! Or did you forget about that?” The dwarf, so seldom seen without a smile, was at the angriest most had seen him “He has no right, none!”

“You were always jealous of him! You wanted it to be yourself she had feelings for!”

“She made her choice and I accepted it! He was the one who took away her choices, banishing her because of his own madness! He would have killed her if Gandalf hadn’t been there below us!”

“Well, you weren’t stopping him!” Yelled Óin, joining the fight. “None of us did a thing! We should leave the poor lass alone, let her live her life out peaceful like!”

“Enough!” Shouted Bombur, speaking up at last. “I feel we have no right to keep this from any dwarf in The Company. We all have connections to our Burglar.” He held up a hand to stop Bofur, who opened his mouth to respond. “However. We will vote on the remaining members. None of us are true leaders, and as such, none of us will decide solely on this decision.

“All those who vote to tell Kíli and Fíli.” Nearly all the hands went up, only Nori and Bofur keeping their hands down, Bofur’s firmly so. “And Dwalin and Balin?” This time, four hands stayed down. Bombur inhaled deeply. “And our King?” Bombur’s and Glóin’s hands stayed up, while the others looked at each other uncomfortably, some of them fidgeting with whatever they held. He sighed. “Very well. We will tell the young princes, and no one else.” He stood, dimming the lights.

“We leave in two days.”


	5. Chapter 5

    "Ori."  
    "No."  
    "Ori.  You know there's something you're hiding from us.  We know there's something you're hiding us.  Why don't you just save us all the trouble and time and just fess up."  
    "No."  Ori puffed up in a way that resembled his oldest brother more than he'd like to admit.  "I was sworn to secrecy.  You lot will have to beat it out of me."  
    As Fili cracked his knuckles threateningly, Ori gulped, suddenly regretting his choice of words.  Still, he held strong.  For Bilbo.  
    "It's nothin' to do with you.  Besides, the others made me swear."  
    Kili furrowed his brow at that, then threw the letter he had on Ori's desk.  
    "None of our business?  What's that then?"  He arranged the letter so the writing faced the other dwarf, pointing at the name.  "Is that a different Baggins' than our burglar?  Or were you really just going to try to sneak out of here without telling us?"  
    Ori grabbed at the letter before Kili pulled it back.  He felt his heart drop.  "How'd you get that?"  
    "It fell."  Kili handed it back to Fili, who put it in his breast pocket.  "Why were you hiding it, Ori?  Who else knows?  Did you tell him?"  
    "No!"  Ori ran up, forgetting the size and strength difference between the pair and himself.  "And you lot can't tell him, either.  You remember how he treated her at the end."  
    Fili glowered at him.  "Unless I'm remembering wrong, it wasn't just him that treated her badly.  I don't remember you saying anything to her defense."  
    "I didn't see you saying anything, either."  Ori shot back.  Fili stood up straight from leaning against the desk, advancing on the smaller dwarf.  
    Ori stood strong.  "I didn't say I was any better.  It's just the others...They- WE," he amended.  "We weren't certain you weren't gonna tell your uncle."  
    Before Fili could say anything, Kili burst between the two.  "Tell him?  Do you honestly think we'd do that to her?  Especially now that she's happy?"  
    Ori still stood at the door.  "You have to swear then.  Swear you won't tell a soul, and I'll tell you when we're going."  
    "You're going?  Back to the Shire?"   
    "Of course we are.  She invited us.  It would be rude not to go."  
    Fili took the letter out, looking at it again.  "Sort of a strange way to tell us she's alive though, isn't it?  With an invitation to her wedding?"  
    "Maybe it's her way of telling us she's not mad anymore."  Ori reasoned, rubbing his nose nervously.  
    "Perhaps..."  Fili didn't look convinced.  
    "It doesn't matter." Kili insisted, looking more excited than Fili had seen him in ages.  He stook out his hand, grabbing Ori's hand.  "We swear we won't say anything, now tell us the plan."  
  
 _Later_  
  
    Fili glared at the ground as the pair walked through the empty halls back towards the royal wing.   
    "You shouldn't have done that."  He said, raising his head to look straight ahead.  
    Kili looked at him, confused.  "Done what?"  
    "Swore for the both us."  He responded, still not looking at his brother.  
    "What do you mean?  What does it matter if you had sworn yourself?  I was just saving a bit of time." He said, shrugging his shoulder.  
    "It wasn't your place."  Fili replied.  
    "What, is this a royal thing or...."  He paused, stopping in the middle of the corridor.  "You weren't going to swear, were you?"  
    Fili slowed, before turing to finally face his brother.    
    "He deserves to know."  
    "He deserves to know?  It's his fault it's taken her this long to let us know she's not dead!"  
    "That's on her.  He wasn't in his right mind and you know it.  She knew it, too."  
    "He banished her!  He nearly killed her, she was probably terrified of what he'd do to her if she let us know!"  Kili closed the distance between them, slowly becoming louder.  
    "Lower your voice!"  Fili hissed.  "Do you want to wake the entire bloody wing?"  
    "I don't care!" He said, though he said it quieter.  "You can't tell him, Fili.  It isn't right.  I haven't even seen him mourn once in five years.  He's brought this on himself."  
    "When has he ever let himself mourn publicly?"  Fili shot back.  
    "Not even a braid, Fili.  And he let his beard grow back, did you notice?  Does that seem like someone mourning the loss of a beloved?"  
    Fili shook his head.  "I can't swear I won't tell."  He held up a hand against Kili's protestation.  "But I won't say I'll absolutely tell him, either.  I need to think on this."    
    Kili shoved past his older brother, a noise of disgust bursting from his chest.  "What's there to think about?  He was the one who betrayed her."  He opened his door.  "I thought you had seen reason.  She did what she did to protect us, and if you tell uncle, you're failing her as much as he did."  He slammed his door before Fili could respond.  
    The heir of Erebor sighed, turning to press his forehead against his own door.  He was uncertain of so many things.  He wondered briefly how he could lead his people when his time came if he couldn't even see what was right or wrong in such a matter, before retreating to his own chambers.    
    Alone in the empty corridor lay a twice forgotten letter, perilously close to the King Under the Mountain's own chamber door.  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

There was no lack of peace to be found throughout the Shire, though there was an undoubtedly lack of fun, at least for Bilbo on certain days. Her Took side, so often coming out as in the days of her youth would more often than not have to find its amusement by the telling of the (edited) versions of her adventures with the company to the young hobbits of Hobbitton, and some of the ones who wandered to far from home on those days. Though she often longed for a willing participant in an adventure, even just a small one, like going to Bree, her Baggins' side remained to proud to ask anyone, for she knew what any respectable hobbit would say to such a thing.  
  
And there was no adventure worth having if she had to do it alone. Then it would be as any other day she passed in Bagend, with nary much actual companionship other than perhaps Hamfast, her gardener. Her unwanted relatives surrounded her, but she still felt increasingly more lonely and tired each day.

'Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink,' she thought to herself, clutching her mother's mug closer to her as she leant back in her arm chair, flexing her hand and fingers. As a few of them cracked, she looked to her window, surprised by how long she had been working on her tale.  
  
Suddenly, Bilbo heard a commotion outside her window. While a commotion is, by definition, a commotion anywhere, in the Shire, at half past 7 in the evening, a commotion is almost the most unexpected of things to happen, second only to perhaps a gathering of unwelcome dwarves.

Tying her dressing gown together, Bilbo threw her door open to see one of the sheriffs running along the path. "There's been a drownin'!" The hobbit shouted to all who would listen.  
  
"Heavens! Get ahold of yourself, sir! What do you mean there's been a drowning? Who was foolish enough to try to go for a swim?" Lobelia came out of another relative's door down the hill. Bilbo noticed her glance up to Bag End, no doubt certain that she did indeed know who was foolish enough. Bilbo bristled at the thought. An adventure was one thing, yes, but swimming? She was not yet so desperate to try that again, thank you very much. It would take a great deal more upset elves and captured dwarves before she'd get back in water deeper than her tub again.

"I'm afraid it is true," said the sheriff mournfully. He was a Brandybuck, if Bilbo remembered correctly. "Master Drogo and dear, dear Primula went out on that confasticated boat, and...and..." Rosco, the deliverer of most of Hobbiton's mail, took out a handkercheif and handed it to the young sheriff. He patted his shoulder gently as the younger hobbit blew his nose.  
  
A collective gasp went across the gathered hobbits, more than a few hands leaping to cover their mouths. Even Lobelia appeared on the verge of tears.  
  
Bilbo thought back to her younger years. She had watched Prim, who was fifteen years her junior, as a young hobbit. She thought of the dealings she had had with the Brandybucks, both before and after her adventure. Most of them were still quite friendly with her, along with the Tooks. Drogo as well, a second cousin, had remained fairly friendly, if somewhat more reserved than before, but she rarely held that against him. She would miss them dearly. She quickly recalled their young son, Frodo, barely four.

"What-" She cleared her throat, choking up a little. "What of their son? Frodo?"

The sheriff blew his nose loudly. "I believe the lad is staying with his mother's family. Her mother, specifically. But she uh..." He blew his nose a second time. "She is obviously grief stricken. She would love to care for him on a more permanent basis, but she isn't exactly a spring chicken anymore." He flushed slightly. "Her words, not mine."

She had barely met the lad. His home, Buckland, was halfway across the Shire. She knew next to nothing of the raising of children. And yet...

_The hobbits in Hobbiton were having a party of sorts, feasting and drinking, with Gandalf's fireworks bursting in golds and reds and greens, fireflies and flowers amongst the stars.  It was four years since she had returned to the Shire, and some days were still harder to get through than others.  But the summer harvest was an easy place to be at ease at, and despite how much of the food and drink had come out of Bilbo's pocket, she found herself laughing and enjoying the night as she had in years past.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Bilbo had wandered over to where the large barrels of the strongest ales were, bought and paid for by her, of course, from the Green Dragon. She was about to take a large swallow of the cool drink to try to fight off the uncomfortably warm summer night air, when she felt a small something crash into the back of her knees._   
  
_Turning around, she saw the small object jump to his feet from the pile he had been in. The dark haired boy held a mock sword in front of him, a toy rarely ever seen in the peaceful Shire. "Back, dragon! None alive have fallen me yet, and you're no different than the rest!" Before he could start attacking Bilbo's knees again, she saw Prim burst through the crowd, ribbons coming undone in her hair, and face as red as Gandalf's fireworks._

_"Frodo!" She scolded, grabbing him in a bear hug. "Unruly child, there you are!" She grinned at her older previous caretaker. "Careful with this one, sweet boy of mine. She's the only one here who has actually faced a dragon and won!"_

_Frodo went white as a sheet, before quickly regaining his past excitement. "Is that her, Mama?" He twisted in Prim's arms while Bilbo sat, bemusedly drinking her ale. "Is that truly Bilbo Baggins?"_

_"It's me, alright." Bilbo set her drink on a table before curtseying deeply. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."_

_"I'm called Frodo!" He said, jumping from his mother's grasp and bowing._

_"That's an impressive bow you have. But what's your mother teaching you these days? A better response is 'At yours and your family's', or even a 'Good Evening!' will pass in a pinch." She shook her head, raing her gaze to Prim's._

_She rolled her eyes, laughing. "You Baggins and your propriety. I doubt you had as much sense to say so when you met your guests that fine evening long ago!"_   
  
_"Dear cousin, you're a Baggins now as well! Propriety is at least second, if not first nature to us." She turned to Frodo. "But don't let anyone tell you that's all you have in you! You have Brandybuck blood in you, don't you forget that!" And with that, she slipped a small bauble she had in her pocket to the young hobbit, one of the presents that Bilbo was known to give out seemingly at random to family members, and shooed him off to play with Hamfast's son as she and Prim began to talk._

Bilbo stepped outside into the warm spring air, suddenly decided. "Master sheriff." She called out, walking towards the crowd. "If you are returning to Buckland tonight, I have a message for dear Prim's poor mother."

 


	7. Chapter 7

Ignoring the heat, Thorin leaned against the fireplace mantle, his head cushioned by his hand, which held the beloved jacket. In his other hand was the letter he had read what must have been several hundred times since Baling had delivered it to him that evening.

He stroked the lettering with his thumb. "It's not in her hand." He said, not sure if he was trying to convince himself it was real, or if he was trying to convince himself it wasn't real. That she wasn't...if she was truly alive, that he hadn't lost her yet again.

"The hobbits are social, your majesty, I'm certain that all of her relatives would be helping in any way possible... Perhaps her family wrote them for the-" he paused, wishing he had phrased it differently. "For...the couple."

The hand holding the letter tightened, Thorin's fingers crinkling the thick parchment that he could almost imagine smelled of fresh tilled earth and sunshine. Like her. Balin continued, not wishing to cause his king anymore pain, but needing to go through every option.

"It's a blessing, Thorin, you must admit that, if nothing else. Our Burglar, our Bilbo, is alive!" He shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. "After all these years, after the way we treated her...she's forgiven us." Thorin threw the letter to the ground.

"This," he gestured to the paper, "This is a lie. It must be." Balin grasped the paper with shaking fingers and ran it against the wall, trying to run the wrinkles out of it. "Thorin, with all due respect..." "If she was alive," Thorin snarled, "She would have said something sooner. She would have told us."

"Would it surprise you to learn she might not want us to know if she was? After what happened-"

"She would have known that it was not me that acted!" Thorin shouted, grabbing the letter out of his advisor's grasp. "She would have known that if I had been able... If it had not been for that thrice-damned stone..." For the first time in many years, Thorin's voice began to break in front of another.

"Thorin...you can't blame the lass for being angry. For being afraid of...us."

"For being afraid of me, you mean." Thorin said, his voice dripping with regret and grief. He gestured towards the door.

"Leave. Tell the others nothing. We will leave her in peace, if we can. We-" he closed his eyes tightly, as if he could shut out his emotions, "I owe her that much."

He threw the letter into the flames, watching it burn. He was Khazâd. He would stay in his kingdom. He would finally be able to keep her safe from the sickness that plagued his bloodline.

It was as if she was back from the dead. Even as his heart broke at the thought of another in her life, he would die well knowing that his beloved lived. He would endure until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't like this chapter, but I've rewritten it a few times already. I might change it in the future if I still hate it, but I just had to give you guys something! Also, as a commenter pointed out, I totally had some dates mixed up! I'll fix that as soon as I can get to something other than my phone. I still don't know where I got those dates from, I looked it up I swear! Also, yes, I made Frodo's birth sooner than it is canonically, should have mentioned it. Anyways, enjoy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so just to clarify, Thorin and Balin know, but they don’t know that the rest of the company knows. The 8 think that at least Dwalin knows, even though he doesn’t actually know. And Fili and Kili know, but they weren’t invited because it’d be too suspicious if they had left as well. I’m so sorry this is super shitty, I just could not for the life of me write this chapter, and after so long, I just kinda…gave up. But I’m back again, so….yay?

“Greetings, Bard,” Ori nodded at the new lord of Dale.   
“Master Dwarf,” he replied, setting down his armload of lumber. “The market is further to the west, if you’re looking for trade. I’ve been told that they’ve even managed to procure some tea from Rohan, if that is of interest to your shop.” Bard had remained on civil terms with the dwarfs, if for no other reason than to maintain some level of support between the two growing and healing cities.

“We’re not interested in trading today, Sir,” Dori said, ushering his brother into a tavern that had been selected as a meeting place due to its owners’ refreshingly strict “no questions” policy. They also had a wonderful stew that Bombur adored, which did play a small role in its selection.

Bard grabbed hold of the door before it closed. His face, which had remained passive through their polite greetings, darkened, brows furrowed. “I do not ask to know your plans, master dwarves. But you will forgive me if I have reasons to doubt your intentions.”

Dori puffed up his chest, temper flaring. “Excuse me, sir, but since when does two brothers enjoying a lunch together give any reason for suspicion?”

The man nodded his head. “I know there are at least two more of your company inside. Rather suspicious, in my experience, that you all decide to meet in a dark side of Dale, in a forgotten corner of town, so far from your mountain.” When neither Ori nor Dori responded, Bard released the door. “I thought as much.” His mouth tightened. “Tell me this, at least. Is my city in danger. Answer me quickly, or I shall send word to your wizard.”

“Master Bard, you have my sincerest word, on my beard, that your city is in no danger from those of us who may be meeting tonight,” Ori said, unusually talkative, with a small bow.

Bard looked into the young dwarf’s eyes, searching for something. When he was apparently convinced, he stepped further back and returned the bow. “I shall keep silent, for now. Good night, sirs.”

As the brothers began to shut the door, Bard called back. “You may want to remind Master Dwalin of the guards where you gather.” As the two paused, frozen, he continued. “He was one of your company as well, was he not? He was seen earlier, near the road towards Lake Town.”

Dori stammered for a moment, going bright red. Quickly pushing him inside, Ori bowed once again, desperately trying to withhold his own growing concern. “We shall, sir. Good night to you.”

The pair all but slammed the door in Bard’s face, panic throughout their bodies. They quickly scanned the large room, looking for their company, once 13, now reduced to a mere eight. Bofur grabbed Dori by the arm, all but dragging him into a chair.

“Dori! Dori, what happened?” Dori seemed to be having some sort of panic attack, Ori not far behind. Bofur waited impatiently for one of the two to begin talking, tapping his foot. “One of you lads, spit it out!”

“Dwalin!” Ori gasped, grabbing Oin’s glass of ale and taking a large drink. “Dwalin is out by the roads towards Lake Town. He’s found out! We’re all caught. I knew we should have told the princes we were leaving, I just knew it! Now they’ve gone and ratted on us, and we’ll all be caught!

The rest of the company looked at one another, varying degrees of concern across their faces. Nori looked as if he had suspected something of the sort to happen, and calmly broke his bread apart as he sopped up the last of his stew. Bombur and Oin looked resigned to their fate, as if they hadn’t expected to even get this far without being found out by one of the others they had left out of the planning. Gloin began signing to Bifur, questioning angrily if he thought that one of the princes had let out the secret, possibly in revenge for not including them in the preparations. Bofur, however, looked angry, a not uncommon look on his face in the past days.

“Oh he is, is he? Doesn’t matter much though, does it? It’s not as if we’ve done any wrong doings. A merry gathering out on the road once more, that’s all we are. Don’t know nothing about any weddings or plannings, or young princes’ wild stories. We won’t let him stop us, not since we’ve come this far! Bilbo is depending on us coming to her wedding, and we won’t let her down, will we lads?” His version of what he thought to be a sort of inspiring speech was met with blank stares.

Ori raised his hand tentatively. “I think ‘depending on’ is a sort of exaggeration, don’t you? I mean, for all we know, she only meant to tell us she was alive, and we don’t even know who she had sent it to, after all.” Dori shushed him.

“The real question is,” Bombur began, leaning back in his chair. “Is what he actually knows. And if he knows, does his brother know, or the King know?” He looked at Nori. “I think it might be time to send in a spy before we panic and surrender.”

Nori nodded, finishing his ale. “Give me twenty minutes.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, DONT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE YET. SMALL SPOILERS AND THIS IS YOUR WARNING. There are no major spoilers, but after I saw it last night (and my world crashed and burned around me, but that's another story entirely) I had to do something with a small element from it, and it may turn important to the story. But yeah. Spoilers, just in case, it's just a flashback scene, so if you need to you can probably skip this until you've seen it.

_"No one rests until it is found!" Thorin shouted to the Company, reunited at last.  Bilbo groaned, quickly stifling it when she saw how close Thorin was.  To say he had been on edge lately was like saying that she had been somewhat uncomfortable for the last year.  He had yet to reprimand Bilbo yet for anything since Smaug had perished, and she was saving the first instance to be a good tongue thrashing whenever Thorin regained his senses._

  
_She was not afraid of Thorin, she insisted to herself.  But there was no denying how nervous she had become again around him, in a way that she hadn't felt since the goblins incident.  'Bother dwarves and their gold!' She thought to herself, not for the first time, before sliding out of sight, for once without the aid of the ring, and wasn't it funny how often her mind wandered to that little thing, how she so often relied on it more than necessary?, but nonetheless, ring or no ring, hobbits were adept at keeping out of sight when they chose to._

  
_She found herself wandering towards the edge of the hastily built wall Thorin had commanded the company build in a brief moment of respite from their search.  It had been too long, she decided, since she had felt the wind in her hair, and was able to smell a breeze not tainted with dragon stench._   
  
_"I said no rest for anyone.  That includes you, Burglar," came a voice from behind her. Thorin's harsh words were tempered by gentle hands, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.  His fingers lingered on her ear, stroking the tip before they lowered, tightening possessively on her shoulder._   
  
_"Well, you're not my king.  And we got your kingdom back, so the quest is accomplished, well done us.  But that also means you're not my leader anymore either."  She ducked down, tearing away and spinning to face Thorin._   
  
_He glowered at her, though it seemed like there was a smile hiding beneath it.  Or perhaps that was just Bilbo's hope creating something out of nothing.  Could he even feel anything besides greed and obsession and all the other negative aspects that this gold-sickness brought out in him?  She was made all the more aware of the weight in her skirt pocket, suddenly even heavier than the one in her vest._   
  
_"You are still under my mountain, Burglar.  And while you are here, I am your king."_

_"Then perhaps, Thorin, as I am no longer needed, it is time for me to take my leave of your kingdom and return to Hobbiton."  Unsure if she wanted him to ask her to stay or not, she was sure of one thing and that was that she would not lower her eyes, she would not._

_"Your job, halfling, was to steal the Arkenstone for me.  Until I hold my birthright in my hand, your loyalty is to me, and me alone.  When I have it, then we will discuss your departure, and not a moment sooner."  Any small beginnings of mirth were gone from his face as he turned away, though am obsessed gleam in his eyes brightened as he discussed the stone and Bilbo._

_"There's hardly anyone to steal it from now, Thorin!"  She shouted to his back.  "You've won back your mountain and your treasure, so let me return home!"  She was angry now, angry at being cast aside for a blasted rock, at this cursed gold, and at Thorin's own weakness at falling for it, as unfair as that was to the king she had followed since the Shire.  She ran to catch up, grabbing his sleeve.  "There is nothing left for me to do for you, Thorin."_

_"Nothing left?"  His face darkened.  "You think you have nothing left to give me?"  She panicked, thinking he must somehow know about what she had claimed as her own share of the treasure, but then panic turned to shock as he pulled her forward, meeting her lips for the first time they had heard of Smaug's demise more than a week ago._

_There was nothing pleasant in the kiss, only Thorin's greed and lust, which she could feel was not for her but instead his lust for what he saw as just another part of his treasure, what he felt was owed to him.  She felt his fingers dip inside her jacket, searching for something, and the panic returned ten-fold.  'The ring, he was stealing the ring!' she thought, pushing him away with strength she did not know she possessed, nor did he, if his face was any indication._

_But any shock was soon gone, as his face held a new look of triumph and an ugly smugness that was unbecoming and even worse than when he was angry or annoyed at her.  He held the acorn that she had taken from Beorn's home, that she had told Thorin she was going to plant at Bag End, the one thing that had seemed to bring back a bit of Thorin that had been lost since the company had entered Erebor._

_"When you have returned the stone, you shall have this back."_

_"That won't stop me, Thorin.  I can't stay here.  These halls, this stone and metal may be home to dwarves, but it is like a prison for me.  I need things that grow.  We spoke once of me staying, but Thorin...You've changed.  Please, come back to me."  She held out a hand to him, wishing like she had never before that he would hear her in his darkness._

_Against all expectations, he did, slowly.   He rubbed her hand with both of his._

_"You are cold, Burglar."  He let go of her hand, bringing both of his to hold her face.  It might have looked comical in some situations, his hands covering the majority of her face, or it might have been comforting, like when he had held her face after he had pulled her from the river into his barrel after the battle and escape from Thranduil's.  But here, it was another reminder of the prison that Erebor had turned into, that he had turned into, and she felt as unsafe as she had when facing Smaug._

_"When the Arkenstone is returned, things will go back to the way they were.  You will not wish to leave, and we shall be happy, and you will be here."  And with that, he turned again, ignoring how Bilbo had needed the wall for support, when he released her.  He still held the acorn._

Bilbo awoke from her reminiscing as she stared at the seeds the market had gotten in.  Frodo bounced around her, begging for a treat.  She shook her head, trying to shake the memories that had wandered in past her defenses.  It was so long ago, and she had much more important things to think of, such as Frodo's lack of friends since his arrival.  She was no tween, who might be forgiven for her pity-party after a rejection or fight with a new beau.  She was a Baggins, and the past was the past, and she would not let him make her suffer over years of separation and miles of land, she  _would not._ Baggins, you see, were experts in the art of lying to one's self.


	10. Chapter 10

"It's not as if this was exactly unexpected, Ki.  They were going to go no matter what, and they knew we might tell Thorin."  Fili called after his brother as he stormed down the mountainside, passing dwarves who were returning to the mountain.  
  
"They knew _one_ of us might tell Thorin," Kili growled under his breath as he nearly ran over an indignant dwarf with a flower cart.  
  
"You can't just take off like this.  Thorin might not notice if the others leave all at once without saying anything, but we're sort of expected to make some sort of appearance _occasionally_.  Especially now that Mother is back."   
  
"I couldn't care much whether or not Thorin does notice I'm gone.  And Mother will understand.  I'll send a raven back from Mirkwood.  Tauriel is going to meet us there, after all.  And it isn't as if IM the only one taking off, is it, Fi.  You have a pack as well."    
  
"Only to make sure you stay out of trouble, little brother.  We can't have you scaring the halflings like the last time.  Poor little bugger didn't know what hit him," he said, laughing at the memory of Kili nearly running over some poor older hobbit who was apparently some sort of messenger, as at least 30 letters had flown out of his pack when Kili had leapt off his pony directly onto him.  Accidentally, of course.  
  
"I wasn't the one flirting with all of the hobbit lasses, brother."

“No, you saved that for the one person that would make our entire family angriest.”

“She is not our family’s affair, and you’re trying to distract me, Fili.  It won’t work.”  They reached the outskirts of Dale.  “Now, you can either come with me, or go back and tell Uncle what I am doing.  Either way, I am going to be halfway to Mirkwood before he notices I’m not there, and by then, it will be too late for him to stop me.”

Kili leant against the wall surrounding the city.  “Oh, he won’t, will he?  I dunno, Dwalin there might have something to say about that, don’t you think?”  Kili spun around, catching a glimpse of Dwalin investigating a barrel of what looked to be apples a dwarf was rolling into the marketplace, before Fili dragged him out of sight.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.  Dwalin always manages to throw you off, so we’re going to need back up for this one, alright?”

“Back up?  We don’t need back up, those _dizhat guzm_ tried to leave us!” Kili said disdainfully.

“If you want to get to the lass’s wedding in time, aye, you’re gonna have to work with us, lads,” came a voice from the shadows.  “I could hear the two of you before you even got past the gates.  And Dwalin’s already looking for anything suspicious, and the two of you reek of suspicious.”


	11. Chapter 11

"It was nothin' personal, lads." Bofur insisted from across the table. "You both can't go two days without missing some sorta ceremony or meet and greet, or whatever you royals call them." 

Kili and Fili, though not identical by any stretch of the imagination, had remarkably similar glares, which were aimed at the rest of the group. "We deserved to know. She was our friend, as close as any one of you. If she's getting married, and she's decided to let the past be forgiven, we deserve to be there." 

Kili leaned forward and put his hands on the table.  "We WILL be there," he added, glowering.

Bofur raised his own hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, you're both here now anyways, so there's no point in fightin', I guess." He looked out the window nervously. "Though it won't matter much if Dwalin catches us before we even get out of Dale." He paused. "And how did Dwalin know anyways? Who had the invitation last?"

At that, each member of the party began pointing at each other, none willing to take the blame, but more than happy to spread it around. The only one who remained completely silent, as one naturally does when they are trying desperately hard to avoid detection when they are aware they're the one to blame, was Fili, who was intently interested in the carvings of some past lovers names' in the  tabletop. 

"Never mind who did it, the important matter is that he's here, and not up in the mountain. Which pmeans that Thorin sent him, which means that Thorin knows." Nori, unusually talkative in the past few hours, spoke up from his spot in the corner.

Kili laughed unhappily. "You'd think that he'd be the first to leave, if only to finish the job."

Fili looked back up from the table at his brother. "That's not fair, Kili. He was sick. It's not an excuse, but..."He shook his head. "It's not an excuse for his actions," he repeated. "But he wouldn't do it now."

Kili scoffed. “Because he’s better.” 

“Yes, brother. We all are. He was not the only one who was under the spell of that cursed stone, even though he was doubtlessly the one driven most mad by it.”

"None of us wanted to throw her from the wall, though," Bifur said in their mother tongue darkly.

 

“But then shouldn’t he be the one leading the way there? He’d want to apologize, surely?” Ori asked, innocent as always. 

“Maybe he wants the banishment upheld. Maybe he wants to distract us from leaving so he can get there first. Maybe he wants to leave her in peace. Maybe, maybe, maybe! This lass is more trouble than ever, and she isn’t even here to cause it!” Oin grumbled, though in his pocket he kept a ruby ring, an heirloom from his grandmother and priceless, as a gift for Bilbo.

"Let's focus on what we do know. Dwalin is blocking our way out. So how do we get past him?" Bombur asked.

"Where exactly is he?" Gloin grumbled. 

"Near the flower cart that Bofur's new lass runs." Nori responded. 

"Not my lass yet, Nori," Bofur cut in. The dwarves were silent for a moment, until Fili spoke up.

"Wait. When they were cleaning the mountain, they brought some of that purple plant in to get rid of be dragon smell."

"And what good is that? Do you want us to bribe him with some? Because I don't think he'll go for that. Unless he wants to get rid of his boots' stench, which I doubt he even smells anymore." Kili replied. 

"And he's the only one who can't," Bofur added.

"No, but as soon as he got within a few feet of them, he went into a fit. Couldn't stop sneezing for a good five minutes, remember? He broke one of Mother's good mirrors she was cleaning." 

"But what plants are purple? There must be loads!" Ori exclaimed. 

Dori rolled his eyes dramatially. "It was lavender, you clot heads! Honestly, if you don't even know lavender, after all this time..." Dori shook his head. "He's allergic to lavender. Bofur, does your lass sell that at her cart?" 

"She's not my lass, and how should I know?" Bofur straightened his hat. "But Nori, if you can get me near there without Dwalin seeing, I'm sure her and I could come to an...arrangement."

* * *

 

"Oh, Master Dwalin!" A voice drifted over from Dwalin's left. He vaguely recognized Dwia, who Bofur had been trying to hide from the rest of the former company, particularly the captain of the guard.

"Mistress Dwia," he nodded. She started wheeling her cart of flowers away from him after waving. However, she soon appeared to struggle with the load.

"Blast! Cobblestone," she clarified, pointing at the uneven road.  "They should really work on evening these out." She jerked it around, before appearing to give up. 

"Would you please just help me get the damned thing out of this divet, sir?" She gestured up the street a bit.

Dwalin grunted, but good naturedly. The lass had a tongue on her.  No wonder the toymaker had set his sights on her.  That, and her apparent undwarvish fondness of flowers reminded him of...

Dwalin quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. It made no difference thinking about the hobbit at the moment. Thorin had given him orders, and he would not allow himself to be distracted. But helping an acquaintance out, who was on the same street, in plain sight of the entrance hardly seemed to be leaving hi post.

"Don't worry about it lass, let me get tha' for ya." He easily lifted the cart up and out of the divet. 

"Thank you, Master Dwalin." She picked a small bundle of flowers out of the cart, and placed it in his chest shirt pocket. Though Dwalin accepted the gift without complaint, he was no fan of flowers. He found them fairly less than worthless, particularly those purple ones that smelled atrocious and made him...made him... 

"Oh dear! Master Dwalin! Are you alright?" Dwia gestured behind her back while Dwalin attempted to cover his mouth while simultaneously apparently unwillingly trying to expel his own lungs as he sneezed nonstop. 

As Dwalin was attempting to get a word out, ten other dwarves were holding their own breath as they darted one at a time towards the entrance. Unfortunately for the last, Ori, Dwalin's most recent sneeze blew him back so hard, the flower bundle fell to the ground, scattering petals of yellow, pink, and well hidden purple on the grey stones. 

"Ori! Where do you think you're headed to, eh?" Dwalin said between sniffle, recovering from his fit.

"I...uh...you see..." The younger dwarf looked around desperately, looking quite lost and alone between the gate and the wall. "Uh....RUN!" He finally shouted, bounding for the wall.

Dwalin, caught by surprise, was similarly surprised when the normally meek dwarf threw the flower cart in Dwalin's direction, effectively tangling his legs in the wheels and throwing flowers up into the air and then on himself. As he attempted to get up again, he began to sneeze again. 

"Sorry, Master Dwalin, but lavender seems to be quite in season at the moment," Ori called over his shoulder. Between violent sneezes, Dwalin saw ten figures ride away from the gates of Dale. 

' _That's it_ ,' Dwalin thought to himself. ' _Flowers are absolute rubbish.'_


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm NOT happy with this. I wanted to do this scene much later, but it's all I've been able to work on and it's been eons since the last update and I owe you this. I am so sorry for the quality.

                It was cold.  She had thought, that with all that surrounded her, that that would not register in her mind, yet it did, much more than she thought it would.  She ducked between figures of light and darkness, and if she had had more time, she may have stopped to help several of the light figures against their tormentors, but she had neither the time nor the focus.  All that mattered was getting to Raven Hill, and him. 

                She stopped at the edge of a lake.  Through the ice, she could see the figures of what she imagined to be fish, but were more than likely simply rocks.  ‘Did fish freeze along with their surroundings?’ she wondered vaguely, before leaping towards two figures in the center of the lake.

                Though she was unseen, she was not unheard.  Great, booming cracks resounded with each foot step she ran, to what extent, she did not know.  She was not a match for either figure, and while she would rather perish than harm one, she was unsure of whether he had the same reluctance towards her.  The other she had no chance against, either visible or otherwise.

                However, her eagerness to help quickly turned to awkward uncertainness of her next move, as she saw Thorin grab Azog’s weight and throw it back towards the defiler, before stepping backwards.  As she slid to a standstill, she saw an edge of the ice shoot upwards towards the sky, toppling the orc down towards the fish, unfrozen or not, below.

                She was certain Thorin heard her, as he looked in her direction.  There lay a pile of snow and ice shavings directly in front of and covering her feet.  Her left hand wavered above her right, unsure once again of her next move.  Despite its rather anticlimactic end, it would appear that Thorin had finally rid the world of Azog.

                “Bilbo.”  He reached out a hand towards her, and she cursed herself for telling him of the ring in Thranduil’s dungeons.  Her thumb played with the ring, spinning it round her finger while she worried about what to do.  She was not sure whether it was this fidgeting or her own mind that eventually loosened the ring enough to slide off her finger, but soon enough the pile of snow at her feet was blocked by her own hands, which she then held up defensively, as if blocking his steps towards her.

                “Thorin…”she began, then stopped.  “Thorin…I- I’m leaving.  Alright?  You don’t have to worry, your banishment is still upheld, I just needed to warn you all.  I’m headed back down now.”  She backed away slowly, as one would a wild animal who might spring at a moment’s notice.  She was unsure of how much his mind might still be deluded, but she was not about to stay around to test any unproved hypothesis’ about his attitude towards her.

                Thorin, for his own defense, stopped in his tracks immediately.  “Bilbo, your head.  You’re bleeding.”  He gestured towards her right.  Absent mindedly, Bilbo wiped off her forehead, and then looked at her fingertips.

                “Would you look at that, I am.”  She let out a wry chuckle.  “That’s what happens when struck with a sword I suppose.  You’re not any better off though, you may want to…may want to…”  As she tried to finish her thought, she saw a shadow form underneath Thorin’s feet. 

                “Thorin!” She called out, but before he registered her words, a blade struck out from beneath the ice, breaking through the barrier into the King’s foot.  Even as she ran towards him, she could see him fall to his knees in agony as the blade kept him in place as an anchor would a boat in the Brandywine.

                When the orc burst through the ice separating the two, Bilbo thought she might vomit.  She could see the two pinned against one another, rolling for the upper hand, even as she ran what might has well have been the entire length of Middle-Earth.  As she approached, she saw Thorin pinned against the ice, Orcist barely managing to keep Azog’s blade at bay.

                As she jumped on the orc’s back, she could see Thorin loosening his grip, as if giving up.  Bilbo raged, both outwardly and inwardly, with a cry of defiance and the readjusting of her ring back on her fingertip.  As she disappeared from view, so did her blade, Sting, as she had taken to calling it.  Though she could hardly stay the Defiler’s hand as it struck her King’s shoulder, neither could she allow it to enter his heart, barely managing to keep it from entering the organ.

                The Defiler rose from his position of upperhanded-ness, nearly slipping on the ice as he reached towards his back where Bilbo lay.  As Thorin lay on the ice, recovering from his recent ordeal, Bilbo cried out in anger and defiance against Azog and the cruelty he represented against herself and her friends. 

She screamed a war cry, though she barely recognized her own voice, bitter and strong against a world that seemed set against her and her own.  The Defiler tore at his back reaching towards Bilbo, who somehow managed to avoid both his hand and his blade, when Thorin gave a mighty kick to the Defiler’s chest.

                What she could not avoid, however, was Azog’s body as it crashed onto the ice, her serving as a buffer between the two.  As gravity pulled him towards the ice, however, it also dragged him onto her blade, which miraculously seemed to had fallen onto Sting.  As he solely ceased his twitching, Bilbo managed to crawl out from the gargantuan weight, gasping and clutching a few ribs that were surely broken.  Beneath the white orc, the ice began to splinter and crack.

                As she lay gasping, she heard Thorin struggling for breath as well.  With a strength she did not know she possessed, she managed to right herself, pulling Sting from its sheath of orc blood.  Wiping the remains away onto the ice, she limped towards Thorin, unsure if she was visible or not in her haze.  She gathered his head onto her lap, past forgotten, all that mattered was that she and he were together again.  She stroked a strand of hair behind his ear.

                “Look, Thorin, look.  He’s dead.  He’s not coming back to haunt you or yours ever, ever again.”  As he struggled for breath, she took his face in both of her hands.  “Thorin, don’t you dare… Don’t you dare do this, not while we’re so close…”   A rock came from the shore.  She ducked, lowering her body to protect his.  “Bother it all, who is throwing rocks?”  She stood up, grasping underneath his arms.  Briefly, she wondered if it was worse to risk the rocks than to risk the dangers of moving a person with a head injury. 

                From their viewpoint, the two saw the damaged ice finally give way, pulling Azog once again to the lake’s depths, the water reaching out like greedy fingers in waves out of the hole.

                She grunted with his weight.  “We…are going to escape this, Thorin.  And you will apologize, and you will throw that stone away, or lock it up, or…or….I haven’t a clue, but we will get through this and you will be King, and I’ll…I’ll go back to the Shire, I suppose.” 

                Thorin wanted to reach towards her cheek, take her precious face in his and assure her that her absence was the last thing he wanted.  He wanted to do a great deal of reassuring to her, to his nephews and to himself, but neither his arms nor his tongue would cooperate with him.  He wished that Bilbo, his One, would remove her ring, so she could take her face in his hands and offer the same assurances that she did now, with the exception of her removal being the one item he would change.  But even as he spoke, a rock barely dodged his face and Bilbo’s, streaking a small path of destruction into the depths of the lake.

                Suddenly the weight under his arms ceased as he was brought to rest underneath… something … that blocked the light of the rising sun.  A rock? He reached towards his burglar, wanting to remove her ring, to assure her that he wanted nothing less to apologize, to beg forgiveness for his actions, but even as he lifted his arm, two hands captured his. 

                “Shhh…I will leave, there is no need for this resistance.”  A hand stroked his cheek.  Internally, he screamed as he tried to find the strength to reproach her self-reproachment, wanting to beg her to stay instead of this talk of leaving.  He wondered if, even while dying, he could not manage a gentle action after a life of steel and rock, or if he had truly made his burglar so terrified of his every movement.   “I will be gone, soon enough, stubborn as you are.  And Bard will return your stone.”  Even with her gentle words, a bitter tone came over her voice.  She set his arm down on his chest, less gentle than she might have been.

                Bilbo stood up and walked away, towards Azog’s body and the hole he had created.  She stared at the sky, trying to avoid Thorin’s unseeing gaze.  “Look,” she said, more to herself than to Thorin, “Look at the Eagles.  They’re approaching, the Eagles, they’re coming.”  But even as she managed to get the words out, she saw a fastly approaching object. 

                Thorin heard the grunt and the preceding splash while still motionless, staring at the sky.  With great difficulty, he managed to turn himself onto his side.

                “Bilbo?”  He gasped, clutching at his shoulder.  There was no answer.  “Bilbo?”  He said, louder, dragging himself towards the hole in the ice as the darkness started in.  It was a scream, though to Thorin’s ears it could barely be heard over the rush of blood in his ears and the roar of panic and anguish in his heart.  Letting go of his wound, he reached desperately into the waters.  Despite the frigidness of the water, Thorin could feel himself surrendering to unconsciousness, but _he could not fail his hobbit again, he always failed her, he could not keep the Halfling safe, even after the battle was won, and the danger gone... and…_

               “Thorin.”  Came a ringing voice from across the room.  Thorin looked up, startled out of his memory.  He had replayed the scene so often in his mind, he could see it perfectly from her point of view as well as his, could hear her thoughts as his own.

                Balin and Dwalin hurried across carpet, Dwalin sneezing repeatedly.  His advisor looked at him gravely. 

               “What could it be this time, Balin?”  Thorin asked, exasperated, trying desperately to hide the fear and shame that still plagued him after truths had been revealed and years passed.

               “The Company.  They know.”

               Thorin sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “Of course they do.”

               “It’s not just that…they’ve gone.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet?

"It's all fine and well that your halfling is alive, but you can't send out half of Erebor's guards to stop a few wayward dwarves. Particularly since those sons of mine seem to have wandered off with them as well."

Dis, the mirror image of her older brother down to the braid in her beard sat on a chair in the council chamber across from Balin.

The king met her gaze with a face stormier than usual. "And why not? They went against command."

"Technically, they were never ACTUALLY commanded to not leave. Dwalin was just a strong visual recommendation to not to."  
Balin glanced over at his brother, whose eyes were still quite puffy from the flowers after several hours.

Thorin ignored him. "They won't have even made it to the remains of Lake Town yet. If the guards take the fastest ponies-"

"And have them drag the heir to the throne home by his ear like a petulant child? How will that look to our people?" Dis stood up and held up a finger towards Thorin.

"Not to mention you would have to explain why they couldn't leave. You would have to tell the entire kingdom that their king was too afraid to even be mentioned to a halfling on her wedding day."

Thorin muttered something unintelligible.

"Speak up, Brother," Dis demanded. "You're a leader, not a monk."

"I said," snarled Thorin, "She's a hobbit, not a halfling!" He stood to match the level of his sister. "And it is not fear, it is out of respect. She does not wish to have us there."

"She wanted someone there." Dis raised her chin. "How else did the letter end up halfway across middle earth. Maybe you're more afraid that it simple wasn't addressed to you."

The room went deathly silent, the only sounds coming from the crack of the flames in the fireplace. Thorin broke eye contact first, turning towards the door. When he got there, however, he froze.  
  
After several more moments of stony silence, Dis left the table as well. She seemed to melt slightly, the stone and steel that ran through the Durin blood softening in a rare moment that left the rest of the room feeling as if they had witnessed something that must not be spoken of to any other who had not witnessed it, for how does a person explain rock turning to water?

She placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. The two were of equal height, but she seemed to engulf her brother in a soothing presence.

"But neither do you know that it wasn't a sort of white flag sent from her. Either way, you will never be at rest until you face her."

Thorin at last turned to face his sister. "You were not there, Dis. You did not see her face when I-," he took a deep breath, then tried again. "When I nearly killed her."

The words floated around the room. None of those present had ever said the words aloud. Thought it to themselves, screamed them internally both consciously and unconsciously but never aloud.

"Then either way," Dis said, straightening her back and looking like the Queen she was in all but name, "You owe this hobbit lass the chance to speak her mind to you face to face."

Thorin still looked unsure. "But the kingdom-"

"Will be safe with me. Don't forget who led our people all those years at the Blue Mountains during your absence."

She opened the door and gestures to the guard outside.

"Ready the three swiftest ponies and prepare supplies for the King's journey to Bree."

She closed the door again. "There, a bit of deniability to anyone who might question why you would go into the Shire. It might not throw everyone off, but you can say you're meeting other dwarves from the Blue Mountains at a halfway point." She straightened his collar.

"I hope I have a chance to meet this hobbit sometime. She must be something quite extraordinary."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaatttt? Another chapter? Crazy!

_April_

Hamfast Gamgee straightened Miss Bilbo's newest sign at the entrance of her walk as he settled in to work on her tomatoes. " ** _No Admittance, Especially On Party Business!_** " it all but yelled at passerby with bold looping strokes.

"Hamfast? That had better be Ham, and not one of Lobelia's-" Bilbo Baggins came into sight, exiting Bag End.

  
"Ah! Hamfast! Just the hobbit I wanted to see. Actually, just about the only hobbit I've wanted to see all day, other than Frodo."

"He's out playing with Sam, miss," the older hobbit replied. He put a finger on the sign, making it shake back and forth slightly. "Miss Lobelia giving you a rough time with it?"

Bilbo sighed. "The bride herself.  And her aunts. Keep coming around, asking to "borrow" everything from my silverware to my good canned rhubarb! Telling me it's the least I can do, to help with the wedding." She hmphed, sounding the world like her father. "It's not as if I'm the one marrying her, for goodness sake!"

"And thank your lucky stars for that, ma'am," he said, tipping his hat. "Pity the poor soul who has to put up with that turnip scent she keeps having brought in."

"Too right!" Bilbo agreed cheerfully. "Still, she will be a Baggins soon. Although that might have been a bit more rewarding several years ago than it is now, after all of that."

"Yes," Ham said, a bit uncomfortably. Although he minded his own business more than most occupants in the Shire, the thought of Bilbo's adventures did tend to ruffle his nerves a bit. The thought of poor miss Bilbo in such horrible conditions, with hardly a day with more than three meals- and with such wild company nonetheless!

"Ah, well! At least it will all be over soon, eh, Ham?" She clapped the younger hobbit on the back. "Now, about those tomatoes, those dratted hares are planning something sinister to do with them, I can just feel it. You can see them, across the way, just waiting for their chance."

* * *

_February_

Kili threw his apple between hands as the company traveled through Mirkwood. Since the war, as more and more caravans traveled between the mountains, and dwarven/elven relationships had improved, the elves had shared several of their secret paths that led through the forest safely.

"Stop fidgeting, Kili!" Fili snapped, grabbing the apple with distaste.

His brother groaned. "I'm bored, Fi! Almost a week in, and nothing had happened at all!"

"I'm not going to apologize for not leading us into mortal danger, Ki," his brother snorted with amusement. "Just sit back and enjoy the scenery," he continued sarcastically, throwing the apple back high into the air. When it had reached its peak, an arrow shot through it, pinning it to a nearby tree.

Though the two brothers had been lagging behind the rest of the company, the others were immediately on the defense, weapons raised high and off their ponies, running back towards the duo.

As the group's eyes scanned where the arrow had come from, they heard a laugh from behind them.

"I heard someone say things were too quiet." Tauriel said with a smile. "I thought to alter that if I could."

Kili let out a yell of delight, though most of the company griped amongst each other as they returned to their ponies.

"Lord Thranduil sends you greetings, master dwarves," she said, lowering her head as they passed her, a small smile still on her lips.

"Tauriel," he cried as he drew his pony closer to the elf captain. He gently drew their foreheads together.

As the company started forward, Tauriel began walking beside the two brothers. The younger's fidgeting was immediately stilled, sitting proudly and what he hoped was at least slightly regal looking.

"Is your horse nearby? I had thought we would meet farther into Mirkwood, closer to the House of Thranduil."

"We are not far from his house," Tauriel answered, her longer strides easily keeping up with the ponies. "Perhaps another hour."

"This forest still confounds me," Kili said, shaking his head. "Even on this new path."

"Kili," Tauriel said. "There is a reason why I came earlier. There is another group of dwarves in the forest, perhaps half a day behind yours and traveling faster."

Kili stopped in alarm. "Ho!" He shouted to Bombur, who was leading the company. He gestured the older dwarf back to him. "Is it Dwalin? Did Uncle send him and his guards to stop us?"

"The scout wasn't sure who it was. She only reported that three dwarves in cloaks, one wearing Durin's colours had entered soon after your company."

Bofur, who had gathered when his brother had, cursed. "Is he truly that determined to stop us? He had to personally see us stopped? You would think he'd be too busy being a -"

"Bofur!" Bombur interrupted. "He is still your king, do not say anything you may regret in better times," he continued sternly. Bofur made a noise of discontent, but swallowed the rest of his sentence.

"When you sent the raven with the news, I informed Lord Thranduil. He was quite pleased."

"'Quite pleased,'" Fili repeated. "I'm having a hard time picturing that particular look on his face."

Tauriel continued, ignoring his comment. "When we were informed about the second company of dwarves following so closely behind your own, he imagined it might not be quite to your benefit, particularly after I told him of your reluctance to tell your King."

The group reached a grey horse standing near a stream. Tauriel approached it, whispering into its ear before gracefully leaping onto its back. Several other elves exited from the trees, standing silently.

"Lord Thranduil owes a great debt to the hobbit," she continued, though she now sounded as if she was reiterating something stated to her previously. "He would wish to repay that, if he could." The elves revealed dark green ribbons from their pouches.

"Though he wishes to keep parts of the forest still secret, he is willing allow you access to a path that will allow you to gain at least a day of traveling over the smaller company. He would, however," and here she looked as uncomfortable as an elf could, which was still not very, "require any dwarf that uses it to cover their eyes."

A shout of discontent arose from the dwarves. "And what if something should happen on the path? There are still some dangers in this forest. Would we be expected to just hack away blindly?" Gloin demanded.

"You would be well guarded. These elves are ones I've trained myself, and chosen for this journey be myself." Tauriel said, a bit testily. "We are not so callous to leave you at the forests mercy."

More cries arose from the dwarves before Fili cried for silence. Though young, the prince still commanded respect, and it was easy to see the Durin blood that ran through his veins when he chose to allow it past his easy grin and dancing eyes.

"The dwarves of Erebor hold their own secrets. We would not be fast to offer any outsiders even a glimpse of our inner workings. Even our language is guarded. We well know the value of keeping some things hidden." He turned from his company, for in that moment it was easy to see that he had become its leader, and spoke to Tauriel.

"I would suggest," he continued, "A sort of compromise. We agree to the blindfold, but in the event of an attack, we be allowed to defend ourselves, and remove them. As soon as any threat is over, we would replace them, with no complaint."

The elves looked to their captain for her command. After a moment, she gave a nod.

"And if any in our company has objections, you are welcome to turn back now. It is a large request, and anyone who chooses not to will not have it held against him."

They waited in silence, the dwarves shifting in doubt and discomfort, yet not one said a word in disagreement. Suddenly a voice came from the back.

"Aye. We're with you lad, 'til the end." Oin called from the back of the company.

"But if any of yous tell a soul, there shall be blood spilt."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of.

¨Bilbo!¨ Shrieked a voice to the sleeping hobbit´s left, startling her enough to lose her balance as she fell backwards in the chair she had been dozing in.  

¨Lobelia!  Charming as ever, even during a day such as this!  Anyone else would have snapped under the pressure of single-handly pulling off a wedding such as this,¨ Retorted the hobbit, leaping quickly to her feet.

¨This is too pink, I need _peach_ roses!  Do I look like a harlot to you??¨  Lobelia snapped at the nearest gardener.  Frodo stopped playing with Sam, giggling as Bilbo made a face at the bride-to-be´s back.  She looked at the nearest bouquet, rearranging some of the stems.  

¨I think they´re lovely.  Frodo, Sam, take this back to Bag End, could you?  It would be a shame to let them go to waste.¨  She handed the bouquet carefully to Sam, who took them gently.  ¨And Frodo,¨ she added sternly.  ¨I most certainly expect you to _not_ touch those muffins I left out to cool by the window this morning.¨  The two boys deflated slightly.

¨Of course,¨ she continued.  ¨There are always risks of muffin-stealing when they smell as good as the ones we made this morning.  It would be a miracle if one or two went missing before you got there.  Stranger things have happened in the Shire before, but if any more than,¨ she paused, pretending to count the two fauntlings, ¨ _Four_ are missing when we get back from cousin Lobelia´s wedding tonight, we will have to have a serious discussion about what we are going to do about burglaring.¨

The two boys ran off, Sam still holding the bouquet as gingerly as one might have a baby.   

¨Don´t get your nice vest and shirts messy!¨ Lobelia shouted at their backs, determined to have everything perfect for her day.

¨Remember crumbs just wipe off!¨ Bilbo said as they turned a corner.  She turned back to her cousin, who fumed about not having the last word in.  

¨Bilbo,¨ she said, pretending to be going over the menu for what must have been the hundredth time.  ¨I just heard the most  _interesting_ news from Rosco.  Apparently, there are visitors in the Shire.¨ 

¨Maybe good news of your wedding carried, and the rangers simply could not bear to miss such a momentous an occasion.¨  Bilbo answered distractedly, arranging a nearby food platter.  

¨Oh, but it wasn´t the  _rangers_ who are visiting.  Can you not guess who it could be?¨

¨Gandalf?¨  Bilbo answered, her curiosity finally getting to her.  

¨Not the grey wizard, oh no.¨ Lobelia looked at her, mouth tightening with every passing second.  When her lips finally became invisible, she threw up her hands.  ¨It´s no use pretending you don´t know, cousin!  There are DWARFS in the Shire!¨

Bilbo froze, her heart clenching in her chest.  She coughed, looking away.

¨Is that- is that so?¨  Bilbo cursed internally.  She would not react like this.  Especially not in front of Lobelia.  ¨How...interesting.¨

¨WHY would you invite DWARFS to my wedding?  Just admit it, you´ve ALWAYS needed the attention, you couldn´t even let me have this one day just for myself!¨  Lobelia, to her credit, did not fall to the ground stamping her feet during this particular tantrum, but it seemed like a close internal battle as she finally decided to throw her face into her hands as she began to sob.

Bilbo sighed, facing her cousin.  ¨Peace, Lobelia.¨  The hobbit began to wail louder.  ¨Lobelia, peace!¨  She turned to grab her cousin by the shoulders ¨LOBELIA, CALM DOWN!¨ she cried with a shake.  The bride looked up from between her fingers, face strangely dry as she sniffled.  

¨Believe me when I say, no dwarf I´ve met would be willing to make the trip from either the Blue Mountains, or...elsewhere on my behalf.  They must be passing through, simple as that.  Maybe to trade.¨

Lobelia seemed to calm down.  ¨What do you mean?¨ she asked, willing to cease crying as her need for gossip rose in her chest.  

Bilbo sighed, turning back to survey the table.  ¨Let´s just say, five years ago, we did not part on the best of terms.¨  That was true enough.  Lobelia´s eyes lit up at this new useful bit of gossip.  There.  Bilbo had given her an even better present than the west farthing silver she had tried to wrangle away from Bilbo.  

¨Truly?¨  Lobelia seemed to wrestle internally before deciding to drop the topic with a sigh.  ¨I just want everything to be perfect for Bingo today.¨  Bilbo rolled her eyes.  ¨And whenever he gets nervous, the poor dear gets...indisposed.¨  Bilbo nearly gagged.

¨Well, he won´t have to be nervous on my account.¨

Lobelia stalked ahead, the discussion already in the back of her mind as she shouted to the poor Bracegirdles, who were trying to raise the gazebo that the ceremony would take place under.  ¨It´s crooked, you louts!¨  Bilbo went back to her plate.  

It was odd though, she determined.  She had not heard news of any dwarfs in the area.  She assumed they would be more travelers from the Blue Mountains, returning to their homeland.  It didn´t matter, though.  She would stay here, mind her own business, get this wedding out of the way, and be back to her normal routine in no time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey guys!


	16. Chapter 16

Fili was the first to jump off his pony, giving a long stretch as he did so. "You know, he said to Kiki. "I think you were right. That was almost too boring. I don't think I would have minded just one little run-in with something."

"Don't jinx us, lad." Gloin said, cracking his neck. "We've still got the way back to worry about."

"And Bilbo always had a knack for attracting trouble," Ori added.

Dori shushed him. "Bilbo is not coming back with us. She's settling down, starting a family, likely. We're at her wedding, remember."

Ori blushed. "Maybe they'll both want to visit, though. I can't imagine Bilbo just never coming back to visit us, 'specially now, when we're all talking again."

"Doubt she'll want to come back to the mountain, Ori," Kili said with a shrug as he slid down the side of his own pony.

"Maybe Dale, see Bard again. She seemed to have made good friends with him and a few of the others there." "We are not going to pressure her into visiting, or traveling, or adventuring!" Dori insisted. "We're just here to wish her well."

"And make sure she's not marrying a piece of sh-" Bombur threw his pack to his brother, cutting him off.

"Well wishes. That's what we're here for." Bombur said firmly.

* * *

 

"So you've felt fine enough to play all morning with Sam, but all of a sudden you feel just terrible, is that right?" Bilbo was adjusting her shawl in the mirror when she turned to Frodo, who was hanging over the arm of her biggest armchair.

"Auntie, I promise! I want to go but-"

"No, you don't, Frodo, I heard you and Sam yesterday."

The boy looked up, setting his face in a scowl. "I don't like Lobelia. She pinches my cheeks and sighs and acts as if she'll cry whenever she sees me." Frodo threw himself back over the armrest. "And she smells of turnips."

Bilbo sighed. She knew if she could have gotten out of attending, she would have in a heartbeat. "If I let you stay, you have to promise to weed around those tomatoes. They're absolutely drowning the dears."

Frodo leapt up to hug his cousin. "I will, I promise, Bilbo!" He turned to run out the door, but was caught by the older hobbit's quick reflexes.

"Not in those clothes, lad!"

* * *

 

If it was true that dwarves turned back into the stones they were allegedly born from after death, Lobelia would have had ten new statues decorating her wedding, if she had her way. As it was, the dwarfs who had decided to trounce into the Shire (and on HER wedding day, no less!) were still very much alive, breathing, while she stood, covered in veils and far too much lace, trying to accomplish the unfortunately futile task. She shot a look at her husband-to-be, where he stood down the aisle.

Said future-husband, meanwhile, was wringing his hands with his soaking handkerchief, dabbing occasionally at his sweating forehead. He gave her a look that he thought was comforting, but instead rather looked like he just had recently eaten a potato that had gone wrong several weeks previously.

"Thank Mahal!" The one with the hat that looked much too warm said. "I was sure we would never make it when Dori made us stop to change into these ridiculous get-ups. Not that we're not happy to be presentable for your big day, lass!" He made to sweep her into a long awaited hug before the youngest one beat him to it, picking Lobelia up in a hug.  He was apparently not deterred that she was standing ram rod straight, far beyond words or any noise, so great was her anger and abused sense of propriety.

"You're in for an earful after this! Not even writing after all this time!" The one who was the most clean said, shaking his finger at her from over her attacker's shoulder. "We'll wait, of course until this is over, but really! All those sleepless nights!"

Lobelia simply let out an angry, high-pitched whistling noise, too high for any of those present too hear, although they could hear the sudden barking of a hound from inside the nearest smial.

"Baggins!" Bifur shouted happily, sweeping off his own hat to reveal the ax still lodged in his head, while several of Bilbo's cousins paled and swayed on their feet. The soundless whistling went higher, and another dog joined the first from farther away.

"Do I know you?" Came a response, though not from the hobbit who was still being squeezed by the youngest dwarf present.

"Never mind you, he's talking to the lass," Bofur said with a dismissive wave of his hand to the man waiting underneath the gazebo, while he nearly pulled the small hobbit out of the other's grasp into his own. 

"It's alright," the wheat-headed one said after clearing his throat. "We were invited."

"You most certainly were NOT," Lobelia finally managed to get out, pushing out of the arms of the one with the hat. She nearly lost her balance when he suddenly let go of her with a start, then she straightened the veils covering her face.

"You're not Bilbo," he said, his brows furrowing. A gloved hand lifted up a corner of her veil before she slapped it away, lifting it the rest of the way herself.

"Bilbo?!? I knew it! I KNEW she would be behind this!!!" A very red-faced Lobelia shrieked. The dwarfs in front of her held up their hands and began stepping away.

"Bilbo?!? BILBO!"

Fili turned to Gloin. "I take back what I said earlier. I'd much rather go back to boring."

* * *

  
The hobbit in question stopped midstride, something that was even more impressive considering how fast she had previously been running to the wedding, trying to avoid being later than she already was. She has stopped nearly as fast as her heart had, before it plummeted somewhere around her midsection. She balance precariously on the ball of one foot, eyes wide. She was still far enough away that the others hadn't quite spotted her.

Bilbo slowly lowered her raised foot before she slowly moved down behind the shrubs marking the road off.

"Nope. No, no, this was not how I thought this day would go."

Hamfast and Sam suddenly appeared from around the bend, apparently running late as well.

"Ms. Baggins?" Hamfast asked, coming closer. "What on earth are you-" he stopped as Bilbo jumped up and shoved him down by the shoulders.

"No!" She whisper shouted, raising a finger to her lips.   
  
"There are some...uninvited guests, down at the wedding." She began pinching herself sharply to see if she was, in fact, awake.

Ham parted the bushes slightly. "Are those dwarfs?"

"Yes, Ham, I do believe they are."

"Are they... your dwarfs?"

"Yes, Ham, I do believe they are."

Ham and Sam looked at each other, saying nothing.  Ham slowly looked back at his employer.  "Well...Begging your pardon, ma'am, but don't you think you'd want to say hello?"

"Of course I do!" Bilbo whispered loudly. "But not like this! Not with Lobelia shrieking like a madhobbit!"

" _And if you think that I'm going to let the lot of you get away with it, you've another thing coming,"_ came an angry shrill voice from beyond the shrub.

Ham rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "She does sound awful mad about it, don't she?"

"Yes, Ham, I believe she does."

Bilbo sneaked a peak over the shrub again. She quickly did a head count. Only Balin, Dwalin, and him were missing. What could they possibly be doing here? Bilbo felt her chest constrict. A deep shame filled her gut as she turned to Ham.

"Ham, I can't face them now!" She felt like she was having a panic attack.

"You faced a dragon, Ms. Bilbo! Surely you can talk to your friends!"

"I'd rather face five dragons than do this now!" She grabbed her face. "Not in front of so many people." She felt the years of confidence and self assurance that she had built up draining out of her. "Confound those dwarfs!" she said in frustration.

"They sounded happy when they thought Lobelia was you, miss."

She looked up at Ham. "There's so much history, Ham. I..." she trailed off.

Ham sighed. "Shall I have them meet you some where, then? Would that be better?"

Bilbo'a shame doubled, but she felt herself nodding. "Back home, please. This evening." She kissed her gardener's cheek. "Thank you."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always appreciated, so please read and review! Also, come talk to me on tumblr at bilbobassins.tumblr.com


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